John's Guardian
by 3.1415926535897932384626433383
Summary: John's being bullied at school, but Sherlock sticks up for him. Don't know if I'll continue this; depends on whether people like it or not. It might just be a one-shot,so if you like it, favorite or follow it and I'll put up a chapter for every person that does, and two for a review
1. Chapter 1

I remember the first time I babysat John Watson. It was a spring day, sunny and clear, not too warm and not too cold-the perfect day for playing outside.

He was fairly shy, but he opened up after a few minutes and soon enough we were the best of friends.

We decided to go to the park and swing. Then we would ride the merry-go-round, because as he said: "You have longer legs, so you can run it around faster." After that, tag and the slides (there were three). He had it all planned out, and I was more than happy to go along with it.

So we walked to the park and swang and swang and swang ("You know, my mum told me if you swing high enough you can go all the way around the top bar..."). Then we went on the merry-go-round.

At sixteen, I didn't have very long legs, but I did have long arms, so of course I pushed the merry-go-round and John rode while it got faster and faster. Right at the pinnacle of its speed, another boy and a girl rode up. They looked a little older than John, maybe ten or eleven at the most.

The boy told me to stop the merry-go-round, which was a bit rude, but I stopped it and he and the girl climbed on.

"Hey, John," he said. "How's Harry?" Harry was John's sister. She was fourteen years old and already an alcoholic. So far as I could tell, Harry was a sensitive subject for John, but I supposed they knew her from school, and they had asked how she was doing.

"She's okay, Phillip," John muttered. He was turned away from the boy and the girl and I so I couldn't see his expression.

"All right, are you ready for me to turn the merry-go-round?" I asked.

"Go on," said the girl. She grabbed the rail so she wouldn't fall off. As I spun it, she started scooching towards Phillip. Finally she grabbed his hand in a none too subtle move.

After a few minutes, my arms got tired and I slowed the merry-go-round down and brought it to a stop. John immediately got off and walked over to me.

"Can we leave? I'm tired..."

"But we've only been here a few minutes. Are you sure you want to go home? We can't come back once we're there."

"I know. Can we go now?" he muttered as he walked away. I sighed and followed him, wondering what had brought on this sudden attitude change.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock Holmes was a queer child. Intelligent, obviously, but held back for lack of social skills. As a result, he hated his teacher and classmates and generally the whole school even more and was even less social than before.

There was one exception.

His name was John Watson and they were almost brothers. He was almost John's only friend too, although John did occasionally play with Greg Lestrudel and Molly Hooper once in a while, even though they were sixth grade and a whole year older than John. They really didn't count as friends though. Sherlock said they were just acquaintances.

The reason Sherlock didn't have any friends was because he refused to talk or play with anyone. He didn't 'socialise,' as the grown-ups put it.

The reason John didn't have any friends was because no one would talk to him. That was why he'd made friends with Sherlock - they were both alone during recess.

The way they'd met was different, though. Instead of two lonely boys, there was one lonely and one fighting for dear life.

The reason no one would talk to John was because of Phillip Anderson. He hated John with a passion. John wasn't sure why, but in the end, it didn't matter why - just whether or not he needed to go to the nurse again.

John liked to compare himself to Harry Potter, who was also lonely because of bullies everyone feared at school. He supposed he was somewhat luckier than Harry, though - Harry didn't have a Sherlock to defend him, and John didn't live with Anderson.

John did have his own Harry, but his Harry was girl and a sister and gone besides. He wasn't quite sure where she was. He didn't know if his parents knew either, even though she was only five years older than John.

Most of the time, John stayed out of Anderson's way. They usually stayed by the swings, where it was cool and shady. John and Sherlock stayed on the other side of the playground, even though it was hotter. John didn't want to be in trouble - his parents didn't like it much.

Sometimes, though, he couldn't help it. Sometimes, Anderson would come to school limping or with funny bruises, and on those days, everyone knew to stay out of his way. John thought he might know what was happening, and he'd asked Anderson about it, but that was the day he got the worst beating he'd ever received from anybody.

It was also the day he met Sherlock.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the second week at John's new school, and John was already dreading getting up in the mornings. He still didn't have a friend, or even just someone to call hello to as they walked past each other. It seemed the whole school had already formed into friendships and cliques without him, and there wasn't any room for him.

There was a boy he felt bad for, though. He had come to school limping painfully but without crutches or even an ace bandage the day before, and John had wanted to ask what had happened but he hadn't gotten the chance. He hoped the boy was alright.

As he ate breakfast, he wondered how the boy had hurt his leg. It looked like his ankle was swollen, as far as John could tell, and he hoped it wasn't broken. It could just be sprained, though. He really wasn't sure.

He heard creaking sounds above his head just as he finished his oatmeal. His mother was awake. He rinsed out his bowl as quickly as he could and was out the door within a minute, lunchbox and all.

When he arrived, he was rather early. The teacher, as well as most of the students, hadn't arrived yet. The boy was there, though, all by himself. It looked like none of his friends were there yet. John decided to ask him about his ankle.

"Hey, your name is Phillip, right?" asked John with a friendly smile.

"Yeah, why?" asked the boy. He looked irritated that John was even talking to him. John stayed smiling.

"I just wasn't sure. I'm new here, just moved in. So what happened to your ankle? It looks like you sprained it." Phillip looked angry.

"It's none of your business, is it? Get out of here! I'll teach you to talk to me like that-"

"I could put an ace bandage on it, if you'd like, before class starts. I have a roll in my backpack. I want to be a doctor when I grow up, " said John, still trying to be friendly.

"I said, it's none of your business! I told you to shut up!" Just then, the teacher walked in. Immediately, Phillip Anderson looked cherubic. "If you need any more help, John, just talk to me later. I'm always glad to help. Hey, Mr. Bixler! How are you today?" John's jaw was hanging open at the sudden change. He wasn't sure what to say. He went back over to his seat and sat down, worried and confused, while Anderson and Mr. B talked.


	4. Chapter 35

**Hi, guys! It's me, Djenif. I am overwhelmed by the amount of interest this story has received! Right now, it has three follows and two reviews, which it got on the space of ten hours, and is the equivalent of seven chapters - which is a lot! In all honesty, I don't know if I have seven more chapters left in me. But I'll write this story as far as I can, and you never know - maybe I have eight! :)**

 **I won't be able to update til Monday or so, though, sorry. I'm leaving for a camp tomorrow and I have cousins visiting from out of state tonight. If I write a chapter, I promise to put it straight up, but I may not write one.**

 **Thanks to all of you who have followed and reviewed (especially the reviewers! I get ridiculously excited when I get an email saying 'Someone has reviewed your story.').**


	5. Chapter 4

Later, at recess, Phillip walked up to John, accompanied by Sally Donovan, who was his girlfriend and almost as mean as he was. John was playing with a boy named Jimmie, who was rather odd, but definitely interested in making friends with John and therefore interesting to John.

"Hey, John," said Phillip. He sounded like he was sorry and John thought that maybe he was apologising for being mean earlier. He stood up to greet them.

"Hi, Phillip," said John with a smile. He was determined to be the friendliest person in the school, even if it killed him. "What's up?"

"Remember earlier? When we were talking, and you asked about my foot?" Phillip still sounded friendly; John took that as a good sign.

"Yeah, I do. How is your foot? Are you sure you don't want me to bandage it for you?" asked John. He was sure it must be hurting Philip.

"Right, about that... You don't talk to me and you don't talk about me. You get that? Because what you did earlier was un... unforgivable. My foot is my business." Phillip looked mean again, meaner than he had earlier. Sally did too. John felt nervous.

"I'm...sorry, I didn't know. I won't ask you about it again, if you'd rather."

"I know you won't. I'm going to make sure of it. See, you talked about my hurt ankle. Now, people will talk about yours."

All of a sudden Sally grabbed John's arms and twisted them behind his back. John yelped in pain, but he stood still, refusing to give in. Phillip smirked.

"Hold him still, Sally. Sit on him if you have to. He has a hard lesson to learn." As Sally held John immobile, Anderson delivered a swift kick in the shins. John winced, but he held himself soldier straight. And he managed to hold his tongue this time.

Then Anderson kicked the nerve that ran up John's shin, followed quickly by his ankle. John couldn't hold it in this time and he cried out. Anderson frowned.

"Shut up. If you call a teacher, I'll make it worse tomorrow." He kicked John's ankle again, harder this time, and again. John's eyes were watering, but he didn't make a sound, and he didn't waver from standing up straight. Apparently Anderson didn't like that. He drove a punch into John's stomach and John doubled over in pain, which yanked his arms in directions they weren't meant to go and didn't help at all.

Then Sally let go of him and he fell on the ground, the breath knocked out of him and tears running down his cheeks. He lay on the ground curled up into a miserable ball and waiting for the next kick, but it never came. After a minute, he opened one of his eyes and saw the boy no one would even look at for fear of having their minds read sitting on top of Anderson and giving him several good whacks.

Then Sally realised what was happening.


	6. Chapter 5

It was the second week of school and as usual, Sherlock dreaded getting up in the mornings. He hated school. The building was full of idiots and Mycroft had taught him all the things he was learning when he was four. It was lonely, too. It was alright at home, where he could go into his room and experiment if he needed something to do, but at school it was nearly intolerable to see the groups and best friends and all the people who just plain weren't reviled.

Mycroft woke him up at 8 o'clock sharp, just like every morning through the school year. Sherlock lay in bed for as long as he could and when Mycroft came to get him at 8.45 he kicked him in the shins while Mycroft dragged clothing over his head in a very undignified manner. It was the only thing about the morning he enjoyed.

At 8.55, Mycroft dragged him to the bus stop and stand with him til the bus came in order to ensure that he didn't skip school again to go to the library.

At nine o'clock, the bus came. Sherlock got on it with his backpack and lunchbox, which he never 'forgot' since it was the only meal he consistently ate, and walked to the very back left seat. As usual, no one sat with him.

The bus arrived at school at 9.15. Sherlock arrived at school at 9.20,the driver having been paid by Mycroft to make sure he got to his classes. When he arrived, school started and he zoned out to go to his mind palace.

Lunch and recess were at 12 o'clock. Sherlock ate his half peanut butter sandwich and pint of milk alone, then began to test samples in the dirt, a project he'd started on the second day of school. He was nearly finished, unfortunately.

At 12:23, something new and interesting happened. Phillip Anderson was talking to the new boy (who looked nice and was probably too stupid to think cohesively).

At 12:25, Anderson's stupid girlfriend grabbed the boy's arms and Anderson himself kicked the boy in the ankle. Sherlock almost felt bad, but he felt better when he realised they wouldn't be picking on him for a change.

At 12:26, Anderson unexpectedly drove his fist into the boy's stomach, causing the boy to collapse onto he ground with his arms still twisted upwards, and Sherlock changed his mind. He walked over to Anderson, tapped his shoulder, and gave him a nice black eye. Anderson was shocked for several seconds - no one ever stood up to him! - which time Sherlock used to sweep his legs under Anderson and knock him to the ground. The idiot didn't even start fighting back until Sherlock was on top of him.

Eventually Sally entered the mix, but he had had so much practice fighting against their whole group that he took her easily. The new boy was still lying on the ground. Sherlock snuck a quick glance and hoped he wasn't unconscious.


	7. Chapter 6

John didn't dare get up. He stayed curled into a ball until the other boy had scared away Anderson and the girl, and even then, he was still wary. The boy could still turn on him and then he would be in a fine state of affairs.

Sherlock watched Anderson and Sally until they went all the way back to their side of the playground. Then he brushed most of the dust off his clothes and turned to the new boy. He still wasn't sure why he'd stood up for him - he would be an even bigger target for Anderson's crew now.

The new boy stood up. Sherlock looked him up and down. His name was John W, he had a brother called Harry with some sort of addiction, this was his favorite jumper, plays football, he had had cereal for breakfast and his parents were - Sherlock stopped. John was staring back at him. He looked slightly frightened of Sherlock. Sherlock sighed; he was used to it. He introduced himself anyways.

"Sherlock Holmes. Nice to meet you, John - well, not so nice for you. How's your brother doing lately?" John's mouth hung open. Sherlock waited for the hurricane of words that usually came after his deductions. Finally, John spoke.

"... Fine, thanks! How did you know? I'm not in any of your classes but maths!" He sounded shocked, not angry.

"It's obvious," Sherlock said. "Your lunchbox."

"My... Lunchbox?" asked John.

"For goodness' sakes. Your name is on it, inked above your brother's, which is crossed out. It's not hard to tell."

"Oh.. " said John. "Why did you stop Anderson? He's got to weigh two stone more than you."

"I've had lots of practice fighting him. He usually beats up on me. Serves him right, about his ankle, " said Sherlock.

"What happened to it? Why doesn't he want a bandage for it?" asked John.

"Oh, it was his dad. He tells Anderson he needs to be tougher and man through the pain, and then he gives him pain to man through. If Anderson bandages it, his dad makes it worse. Stupid, really." Sherlock said it in a careless tone, as though it were nothing more than the weather. John stared.

"Do you want to... do you want to be my friend?" he asked at last. Whatever Sherlock was expecting him to say, that clearly was not it. No one had ever said that after kindergarten to him - all his classmates were afraid of him. The idiots thought he read their minds.

"Are you sure? If you don't, you won't get any more. It'll be social suicide, " Sherlock said finally. He still sounded shocked.

"They won't talk to me anyways. They don't like that I wear jumpers when it's hot. Besides, I like you better," said John.

"Okay," said Sherlock. He almost smiled, something he never did at school. "So why do you wear jumpers when it's hot?" John was silent. He didn't reply. Sherlock thought he had better change the topic. This was clearly something his friend was not comfortable with and he didn't want to lose him.

"So what football team are you on?" Sherlock knew nothing about football but it turned out to be one of John's favorite subjects as well as activities. They talked for a rather long time, until the bell rang.


End file.
